Not My Type
by AKA DD
Summary: Challenge Fic: Make Us Like Jo. It's three years into the future and the Winchester brothers run into Jo. JoDean and JoSam implied.


**DISCLAIMER: Supernatural isn't mine. Dean is. He just doesn't know it yet.**

**A/N: Response to the challenge "MAKE US LIKE JO" issued at Nuns with Pens.**

**Summary: It's three years into the future and Jo and the Winchesters bump into each other.**

Standalone. Complete.

* * *

**NOT MY TYPE**

Dean slipped through the window, pulling his body lightly through the small opening. He was very quiet, almost stealthy in his movements. After years of breaking and entering, he could have really made it big as a thief. But that wasn't his job.

He rolled lightly, only making a couple of creaking noises on the floor. The house was old, it couldn't be helped. But Dean still pursed his lips in annoyance. He preferred to be in and out without a fuss. And noise always brought fuss along with it.

He stood up and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness for a moment, and that was when the room was suddenly filled with bright yellow light. He squinted in reflex as his vision was filled with bright red dots. Momentarily blinded, he heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked.

He raised his hands automatically in a gesture of surrender and turned around slowly. His eyes, regaining their vision, registered the gun-bearer.

He barely recognized her.

It was a girl with the glowing golden hair, pink lips twisted into a smirk, and brown eyes glittering with intent. She had a machete resting lightly on her shoulder and a headless vampire under her boot. She also had a sawed-off shotgun trained on his chest, finger resting lightly on the trigger. This was no longer the little girl who had stupidly rested the same barrel of the same shotgun on his back the first time they met three years ago.

Nope. This girl was a woman now.

"Jo?" Dean rasped, his eyes drawn to the girl—woman—instead of the barrel of the gun.

She cocked her head slightly and grinned. "Dean." Her smile deepened and she lowered the weapon, letting it dangle limply at her side. "You startled me."

It sure as hell didn't look like it. She'd just stood there, calm as can be, shotgun on the ready. "Coulda fooled me," he drawled, slowly lowering his hands and rubbing them against his jeans.

She turned her head and smothered a laugh. "I was too scared to scream bloody murder," she quipped easily. He caught her profile. She still had that unsightly bump on her nose, and her lips were still too thin, her face still too narrow—but damn, there was something about her. Maybe it was a glow, the kind that you get when you've just caught your prey. Or maybe it was the fact that she was more relaxed in her skin, no longer awkward.

She definitely looked like the hunter she'd always wanted to be.

"So, whatcha got?" he asked, his voice a stage whisper, stalking over to her, his eyes on her kill. She shrugged easily and tossed her hair to one side of her shoulder. "You have to ask?" she retorted lightly, her hand gesturing carelessly to the severed head that had rolled a few feet away.

He shrugged, too. "Just making conversation," he replied.

"Here." She tossed him the machete and he caught it easily. "Just in case the others heard all the commotion you were making."

"What makes you think I'm gonna help you with this hunt?"

She regarded him over her shoulder, a knowing smile on her face. "'Cuz you're Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire," she said. "You wouldn't be able to help yourself."

Dean scrunched up his face slightly, not sure whether she was mocking him or not. "Right." He replied, just as vaguely.

She glanced over her shoulder briefly, her eyes flickering.

"What?" he asked, throwing a cautionary look over his shoulder as well.

"Where's Sam?"

Dean grinned. "Doing the dirty work."

She cocked an eyebrow. She used to do that when she was younger, but she'd somehow perfected that arrogant gesture in three years. "You mean the _real_ work," she pointed out. "Researching?"

Dean spread his hands out in mock innocence. "Hey, he does his own research one way, I do mine my way," he remarked. "I'm more the action type anyway."

She rolled her eyes at that before turning away from him to stalk through the rest of the house, and he grinned at her back. Speaking of which…he let his eyes trail lower, to the shapely rear accented quite nicely by her low-rider jeans. She still wore those damn shirts that were too short to really cover her midriff. He didn't mind, not especially when he could see that lovely indentation of the small of her back.

"Stop staring," she whispered.

His eyes snapped to the back of her head. "I wasn't."

"Liar."

Dean chuckled. Jo was a lot more fun than he remembered. She certainly seemed more confident and more at ease with what she was doing. In fact, it was odd because he felt like he could trust her. It seemed almost intuitive, unlike their first hunt together many, many years back. He grimaced at the memory of that hunt in Philly. Jo had almost died that day.

He'd thought she'd back off from this business after that. Especially once she found out about their dads. But apparently, the stubbornness wasn't just for show and tell. It was in her blood. And he appreciated that.

"So," he whispered.

She smiled back at him. "Four more," she replied.

"You're here all by yourself to take on five vampires?" he asked incredulously, not sure whether to admire her for her guts, or lecture her for her stupidity.

She shrugged. "I did my dirty work," she replied. "I've been casing them for a couple of months now. They don't wake up till past midnight. Lazy bunch."

"And if you're wrong?"

She shrugged. "Then we deal."

"We?" he scoffed.

"If you're scared, Dean, feel free to turn tail and leave." Her tone was mocking, her voice was light, and Dean couldn't help but smile at her back. Again his eyes drifted low, and his smile turned downright sensual.

If he remembered correctly, Jo used to have a thing for him. He could work with that.

"I'm right behind you all the way, baby," he whispered, imitating her mocking tone, but adding his own brand of amusement to it. "I got your back."

She turned around to glare at him, obviously catching his innuendo. He grinned wolfishly at her, and she shook her head and turned her back on him again. But not before he caught her own Cheshire cat grin.

* * *

"You did good," he said sincerely, raising his bottle of beer to her in a small toast.

She shrugged. "Been doing it a while now."

"Well, all I'm saying is, it's a decent improvement from the job in Philly," he drawled, his eyes glittering in amusement. "I still remember that."

She blushed. Damn, she blushed—turned straight pink from the roots of her hair all the way down her neck, to the little V where the rest of her skin was covered by a thin cotton shirt. She looked shyly up at him, through a curtain of golden hair.

Had her hair always been that pretty color?

He reached out and tucked the curtain behind one ear. She blushed even more. She took her bottle of beer and quickly gulped half its contents. Dean almost laughed out loud. Looked like Jo still had a torch for him.

"Dean," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Whatever you're doing."

"I'm just appreciating you," he drawled.

She regarded him with an intent gaze. He watched as her eyes raked over him. It looked as if she liked what she was seeing, but would never dare touch. Like he was some kind of damned hero or movie star.

He opened his mouth, about to say something along the lines of how he was just a man, when Sam walked in and leaned on the counter next to him. He gestured to the barkeep for a beer and sighed, "Damn, Dean, someone else has been hitting the town before us."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, ribbing Sam.

Taking the beer the bartender handed him, Sam finally turned to look at his brother. "How?"

"Cuz she's sitting right next to me," he replied easily, tilting his head towards Jo.

Sam's eyes flew to Jo's face and softened. "Hey, Jo," he said, his voice a soft, kind whisper. "You're the competition, huh?"

Dean watched as Jo's face softened, too, her guard lowering. "Competition?" she wrinkled her nose.

Sam chuckled. "So, is the job finished, then?"

Jo smiled widely at Sam. "You betcha. Dean kinda got in the way, but I managed."

"Hey!" cried Dean in mock indignation. "I warned you about the one that was coming up from behind you."

She rolled her eyes, and Sam chuckled.

Dean watched as they looked at each other, over him, past him, _through_ him. Hell, as if he weren't there. He groaned. Oh, fuck. Sam liked Jo. Jo liked Sam. Or at least, they liked what they were seeing now.

How'd he miss that?

It wasn't like they even ever really knew each other. He remembered a few times they'd stopped by the Roadhouse. It seemed like Jo was always going out of her way to ignore his brother, and Sam pretty much did the same to Jo. Even during the Philly job, they'd been a bit awkward 'round each other. What the hell?

Dean blinked as he realized that they were talking about some kind of computer software that Ash had invented to track down vampire movements all over the country.

"Yeah, exactly," she was agreeing, nodding her head earnestly. "That's how come I got here way before y'all did."

Sam nodded, a smile of real interest on his face. "That was smart."

Jo sat a little straighter at his brother's compliment, and Dean nodded as if part of the conversation. He sighed heavily. This night was gonna be a long one.

* * *

Jo had been ecstatic to run into Dean earlier this evening. As soon as she'd heard the noise, found the big body of a man creeping around, and flooded the room with light, she had recognized the gorgeous face.

She'd waited until he recognized her.

Of course, her heart had done a little somersault the moment his voice had rumbled her name like that.

Damn, but Dean was a gorgeous man. He was all of thirty now, she was sure. But despite the deeper laugh lines, he still looked the same. He still had the boyish charm in the way those lips smiled and quirked. He still had the mark of a true hunter in those predatory eyes—the eyes that had scoured the room to make sure it was secure. And he still had the relaxed air of a man that couldn't quite be pinned down.

And because of that, Jo had held back.

For years, she had wondered about Dean Winchester. About how he would turn out, whether he would like the way _she _turned out. The answer was an obvious yes. He'd been flirting and charming her all night; and in some sick way, allowing her to take on all four of the vampires and standing back in the background like he did tonight, was his way of showing her how impressed he was by the way she turned out.

She had relished in showing off to him, of course.

But as the night wore on, she saw that he was still Dean Winchester, hard to pin down.

She deserved better than his "_you-did-good-I'm-appreciating-you_" brand of charm. Because while he looked at her now like he wanted to eat her, she knew that she'd never hold him down. Dean Winchester was the guy of her dreams, just not the guy she'd hold in her arms.

And that was when Sam walked in.

Jo had forgotten how much she loved looking at Sam. Or actually, looking into Sam's eyes. There was always a gentleness and wariness in them that told her he still wanted to see the good in the world. He had a voice that was soft and calm. He was almost a polar opposite to his brother.

And she could always talk to Sam. He didn't leave her feeling tongue-tied and awkward.

Hell, he always listened to exactly what she was saying, always gave her the benefit of the doubt. Like right now, when she was telling him about Ash's new computer program for tracking vampires. She had been testing it out, and it had worked like a charm.

"That was smart," said Sam, his hazel eyes sincere. There were no hidden agendas in his eyes.

Jo switched her gaze from Dean to Sam. Both men were good-looking. Dean was, by far, the more striking one. The one who turned heads everywhere he went. He exuded masculinity, sexuality, and danger. But somehow he mixed that with a boyishness that lulled the girls into a false sense of comfort.

And then there was Sam. He looked like a tree. Jo rolled her eyes at that thought. Not just because he was tall and really solid-looking. But he was rooted, down-to-earth and reliable. There was no lulling to a false sense of comfort. He was comfort.

"You have the same hazel eyes," she blurted out.

Both men looked startled for a moment. Dean looked at her with that amused, tolerant gaze, and she felt like an awkward young adult again—not the twenty-four-year-old woman that she was. Sam looked at her with a cocked head and a small smile. "Yeah, we're brothers, in case you forgot," he said with an easy laugh.

Two pairs of gorgeous gold-green eyes regarded her and Jo blushed so hard it was a wonder she didn't catch fire right there.

"I'm just sayin'," she muttered. "Cuz you're so different in all other ways."

Dean gave out a bark of laughter and clapped Sam on the back. "You got that right," he chuckled.

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes at his older brother, "God knows I don't wanna be twisted like you."

Both men shook their heads thoughtfully and Jo felt like an intruder in the midst. She knew that while she had her own demons, they had bigger ones.

Suddenly, Sam downed the rest of his beer and placed it purposefully on the counter. "All right, guys," he said in that warm voice. "I'm beat. I'll catch ya later, Dean."

He turned to Jo, looked her straight in the eye like he could see her soul. "It was really good seeing ya, again, Jo. You look…" he paused as if finding the right words. But never having mastered flirtation quite like Dean, he just shrugged and settled for, "really nice."

But Jo felt warm inside. He looked really nice, too. Broad-shouldered, solid, muscular. Like he could cradle her in his arms and keep her safe for always. Or at least whenever she felt like being locked away safe in those arms.

"Hey," Dean was waving a hand in front of her, and she realized that she had been a little busy watching his brother walk away.

"Oh, sorry," she smiled at him. "Where were we?"

"Where were we?" asked Jo.

Dean almost growled in frustration. It was damned clear that Jo had been distracted by his brother. He scratched his head and yawned widely. "Well, I'm beat, too." He lied. To be honest, he still had adrenaline pumping up and down his veins. Likely he'd stay up for hours still. He stared her down, challenging her. "What about you? Ready for bed?" He purposely kept the statement open-ended.

Jo bit her lip and regarded him with brown eyes that searched his face. Suddenly, Dean felt a little vulnerable. It was like she was searching for something more than he was willing to give, trying to pull it outta him.

That was something he forgot about her. She had a way of staring someone down and attacking with her eyes. Carefully he blanked his expression, keeping only politeness and a faint glimmer of interest in case she wanted to share his bed. He wouldn't turn her down.

His eyes slipped to the V in her shirt again, to the swell of her small breasts. He saw a slight reddening, and smirked as he realized that she was blushing again. "I used to have a crush on you, y'know," she admitted frankly.

He cocked his brow, letting her know without saying a word that _of course,_ he knew. "And?"

"I still do." She breathed.

His gaze became frank and inviting.

But she stood up and laid a hand on his arm. "But right now, this time, this place, you're just not my type, Dean," she said regretfully. "Wish you were, but you ain't."

He saw her gaze fly to the door where his brother had left, and he sighed. It was all just as well. He would probably be damned ten times over if he screwed with her, because even if they had barely seen her in the last three years, he still considered her a friend.

Those were all too rare these days. "Yeah, I get it."

She pulled her hooded sweatshirt over her shoulders and zipped it up all the way, covering her all the way to her collarbone, effectively making herself unavailable. Then she shrugged into her jean jacket, and pulled her hood over her golden hair. "I'll be runnin' into you, then?"

It was a statement turned into a question. An invitation. But Dean knew that invitation wasn't for himself.

"This country ain't close to being big enough not to do that," he replied with an easy grin.

She grinned back at him. "Stay alive, Winchester."

"I'm hard to kill."

"I'm counting on it."

And again, Dean wondered whether Jo still wanted him.

But with a small nod, she spun around and walked out the bar, disappearing into the night.

Jo smiled to herself. She'd come out unscathed from another run-in with the Winchester brothers. That alone was a little victory in itself. She glanced towards the direction that she knew Sam had gone—where the only motel in the town was—and she sighed.

Sam was tempting. Dean was tempting. Both Winchester men were calling to her in different ways. She was a little twisted like Dean, but she found comfort in Sam. She was unsure where that left her.

In the end, she wouldn't settle for unsure.

Only time would tell. But she could wait.

* * *

**A/N2: Do you like Jo just a little bit more now? LOL!**


End file.
